Silver Lining
by Arumei
Summary: The eight children dead at the hands of the Origami Killer weren't the only victims of the case. Fortunately for its survivors, the inflicted scars will heal in time.  Spoilers, One shot, rated T for language


**Author's Note: On my first playthrough of Heavy Rain, Lauren and Scott were my favorite characters. The two of them – a serious yet compassionate (and very much overweight) private eye, and a hooker with a heart of gold – were just the perfect call back to old noir detective stories, and I loved it. And then Quantic Dream took my heart and stomped all over it. My bitter, broken shell latched to Blake and Jayden instead, haha. Those two assholes didn't even have the dignity to stay out of this one shot.**

**But I digress. Hope you enjoy.**

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><p>"<em>Nothing<em> but contempt."

She made sure to annunciate every last syllable in the sentence, hatred oozing from every word. Inspiration struck once she finished, giving her the idea to spit on his tombstone. Part of it was in hopes of ridding herself of at least a little of the pent up rage inside of her – the other part was motivated by sheer desire to display complete and utter disrespect toward the man buried beneath her feet. With one last furious glance back at his grave, Lauren Winter turned on her heels to leave the cemetery.

_Last time I was here, we came together. _

The thought made her insides freeze, and despite all promises to herself and Johnny, she only just made it to the large tree canopying the exit of the cemetery before grabbing it and beginning to sob. All the tears she had held in for the death of her only son began pouring down with such force that the storming clouds above were left envious.

"Unfair" didn't even begin to describe it. If Scott had just killed her son, she might have been able to live with the pain. Certainly, she would have still wished death upon the murderer of her child, but at least she'd be able to move on after the deed was done. But Scott hadn't just taken the one joy of her otherwise bleak existence; he had made his way into her life and actually began _filling_ that void…only to snatch it away again in the most cruel form possible. She hadn't fallen so fast and foolishly for someone since she stupidly let herself believe that she loved the client that got her pregnant. At least the deadbeat had given her some joy, in the sense that Johnny was born. Yet Scott didn't even have the mercy in him to just let her _die_ in that car; at least then she could have passed away in ignorance at what he'd done. He had to have known how much the truth would hurt her.

"Shouldn't you be leaving?"

Lauren looked up through bleary eyes in surprise, finding that during her breakdown someone had entered the otherwise deserted cemetery. It was clear the question wasn't directed at her, however; from behind the tree, she was effectively out of sight. In a resigned, almost bored fashion, Lauren peered around to see who he was addressing; from the angle she was standing, she couldn't see the person either. Her gaze flickered instead back to the speaker – and her curious nature came out full force as she realized the man was standing right in front of Scott's grave.

Blinking the tears out of her eyes to clear her vision, Lauren tried to make out the man through the heavy rain. His back was facing her, but she could tell even beneath his coat he had a muscular build. His short hair, though black, was littered with graying spots. Without seeing the man's face, she'd guessed he had to at least be in his 40s. By his stature alone and tone of voice, Lauren doubted he was a particularly friendly person – a heavy assumption to make on appearance alone, but such was a necessary skill in her profession.

"I don't hafta go 'til this evenin'." Lauren heard the thick Bostonian accent before its owner came into view. Like the man already in front of the grave, he was facing away from her – before he turned completely, however, she caught a glimpse of his face. A thin though highly visible scar blemished a face that was otherwise quite handsome. His eyes were almost startlingly bright, shining even through the poor weather conditions. Yet they seemed glazed over from pure stress.

"So you thought you'd spend your last few hours in Philly bothering me?" Lauren was a little taken aback by the raw hostility in the older man's voice as he turned to glare at the brown haired man now standing by his side.

"No. I didn't even know you'd be here…'Figured I should see his grave before I left, I guess?"

Even from across the graveyard Lauren could see the first man's chest rise and fall in anger. With every passing second he seemed to be confirming her initial impression on the man's character. "What, you wanted to pay your respects to a fucking child killer? I swear to god, Norman, if you honestly regret killing him…"

Lauren froze in her hiding place, mind racing as she pieced together the bits of the evening news she'd caught in the last few days. That's right – she had seen that exhausted face before. A dispatched FBI agent she couldn't completely recall the name of; Norman something, apparently. According to the news reports out so far, the man was single handedly responsible for saving the Origami Killer's – _Scott's, _her mind correctly harshly_ – _latest victim before he could drown in the rain, killing Scott in the process.

Recalling again exactly how the boy would have died – how her son _had_ died – filled her with incredible fury again. Drowning completely alone and afraid in rain water…But this time, Scott had been killed, just as he deserved…and his killer didn't fucking relish that fact? Channeling the older man's anger towards the FBI agent, it was almost enough for her to jump out from behind the tree and start screaming at the young man. No, she would _not_ allow for the man who had unknowingly avenged her son to regret the blood on his hands.

"…No, Blake. I don't," the agent replied in a hushed voice that Lauren just barely managed to catch. "I don't…feel 'enethin', really."

The man the FBI agent had been addressing didn't reply, though his posture relaxed just as little as he turned to regard the younger man. For a moment, the only noise in the cemetery was the sound of the rain beating against the ground.

It was Scott's killer that broke the silence. "I figured…seeing his grave might make me feel somethin', you know? But…it doesn't really look like I was right."

A heavy silence hung in the air again, until the agent went on in a much quieter tone, making it impossible for Lauren to hear.

Apparently, the older man hadn't caught it either. "What?"

"I said you were, though," he repeated in a louder voice, one that Lauren could hear. "It does somethin' to you, the first time…And then you just get used to it."

Lauren didn't quite understand the man's words, but the absence of emotion in his voice was far more depressing than any form of tears. The tone alone made her go cold inside again.

That's when the older man – Blake? – turned to fully face the FBI agent. Lauren caught a glimpse for the first time of the hostile figure's face, noting it to be covered in black facial hair in the form of a goatee. Despite the harsh words from before, his dark blue eyes held an almost gentleness to them as he sighed heavily, bringing a hand up to clasp the younger man's shoulder.

The agent jumped in surprise at the sudden physical contact, his entire demeanor screaming discomfort. He made no move to remove the offending appendage, however, as the raven haired man spoke. "You know, Norm…First time I killed someone? My reaction wasn't all that different from yours. My partner was the only one who could calm me down…Told me the same thing I told you. Never forgot that shit."

Lauren caught a glimpse of the agent's unnaturally shiny eyes again as his neck turned to look the man over curiously. "Whatevah happened to him?"

The grip on his shoulder tightened, making the young man wince slightly. With the side of the older man's face still half-displayed, Lauren spotted a tight grin that reflected a deeply settled hatred instead of joy before he turned his head to face the tombstone. Confused, the agent followed his line of vision.

"You're fuckin' looking at 'em."

Startled, the young man jumped back, breaking the physical contact between them. Lauren's grip on the tree tightened, breaking off bits of bark as she took in this new information about Scott - the monster she was steadily growing to hate more with every passing second.

"I…I'm s'ahrry…"

For the first time, the black haired man laughed. Like his smile, it was not a sound of amusement so much as a demonstration of conflicted pain. "Don't be," he stopped for a second, tilting his head slightly as he read Scott's gravestone. Like Lauren had before him, he spat bitterly against the words before finishing his sentence, "I'm not."

With one last long look at the print, he turned to give the agent a slight smirk before patting his back encouragingly as the two started to walk away. "C'mon, kid. It's fuckin' cold."

The splashing noise of their footsteps slowly died away, leaving Lauren alone again with only the sound of the falling rain. As before, her mind was racing as she replayed the two men's conversation in her head repeatedly in hopes of making sense of it. The young man – Norman, he had at least earned the respect of her using his name – didn't lament killing Scott. He just didn't celebrate it either. At first, this had bothered her…but now, she was attempting to put herself in his shoes. If he hadn't killed Scott, she definitely would have. Pulling the trigger against a man she had thought she was growing to love? It would have torn her apart, certainly, but she'd have done it. There wasn't a doubt in her mind – and that's what terrified her.

If she had been the one to kill Scott…by the sound of it, she would have taken his death hard. But how long before she picked up a gun again? Would she have killed Allan for leaving their son to die? How about Troy, for making her endure increasingly more violent beatings? Both acts were not entirely unjustifiable. She'd never considered such a final solution previously, but if killing got easier each time…it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she wouldn't be able to stop once her hunt for revenge had started.

An entirely different emotion surged through her system upon this realization – one she swore she hadn't felt in ages. Releasing her iron grip on the dampened tree trunk, Lauren let out a sigh as fresh tears began falling down her face. This time, however, it was out of gratitude.

Perhaps Norman hadn't been around to save her Johnny – but he had appeared in time to save her.


End file.
